


stop, broom time

by ZOMBIEDOG



Series: GIFT FICS [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Other, cryptidformers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 05:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZOMBIEDOG/pseuds/ZOMBIEDOG
Summary: A few days after 'meeting’ the creature, you had walked out onto your porch one muggy morning with broom in hand, and you were met with an animal carcass on the bottom step, a bone precariously sticking out. Deciding yet again that this was inevitably the best choice, you reached down to look at the bone, merely 'huh'ing at what was carved into its marrowYou had a very strong feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you would see this ’Ratchet’





	stop, broom time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suna_scribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suna_scribbles/gifts).



It hadn’t been long that you lived on the old property, originally only there to hold up family traditions of some unlucky heir being thrown into the swamps to care for some run-down shack and ( _hopefully_ ) not die by some creature looking for a quick meal. This time, you actually had escaped the fate of being the unlucky heir, that is until your poor cousin had been bitten by something she only described as “ _ancient_  and  _ungodly_ ” before passing out in the back of the ambulance

It had been during a particularly bad thunderstorm that you decided you would sit by the old tattered-screen porch door and read, letting the rain serve as white noise as you immersed yourself into the world of the book. You had  _just_  gotten to an unexpected plot twist when you heard heavy thumps outside as if someone were stomping on the wood of your porch

Deciding in your  _heart-of-hearts_  that you would make the unwise choice of checking out the noise, you grabbed a spare broom from the doorway as you snuck through your kitchen, more than ready to defend your home from any would-be intruders, even if you would have to beat them to death with a broom. You  _knew_  that nobody would  _ever_  find the body if you fed it to the gators

When you opened the old tattered-screen porch door, you saw it. Tall, un-human, _grotesquely_  reptilian and very much resembling what the media would refer to a classic ’ _swamp monster_ ’, it stood there and stared at you with a snarl. You slowly lifted the broom, never taking your eyes off the creature for one second, letting the broom fall on its snout with a hard ‘whap!’, you continued to smack the creature with the broom until it stumbled back and fell off of the porch

It only stared up at you in what you assumed was shock ( _maybe_  awe, if you could apply human feelings to this thing), and you merely raised the broom threateningly as it gave a grumble before disappearing back into the marshes, hissing as the water slowly enveloped it

A few days after 'meeting’ the creature, you had walked out onto your porch one muggy morning with broom in hand, and you were met with an animal carcass on the bottom step, a bone precariously sticking out. Deciding yet again that this was inevitably the best choice, you reached down to look at the bone, merely 'huh'ing at what was carved into its marrow

You had a very strong feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you would see this ’ _Ratchet_ ’


End file.
